[Gareth84]

Synopsis: A tale of a angry office worker facing his demons. One of afew shorts ive written each based on a different emotions, this one is hate.

I hate it here – stupid inhumane cubicle, flaming uncomfortable chair that hurts my back, the incessant and unrelenting ticking of the clock. I wonder if it’s the lack of human contact, sunlight, or interest in the work that upsets me more, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I regret being here from before I even arrived; from the second I wake in the morning, dread falls over me like the night sky over the world. The place instils me with a feeling I cannot stomach, a churning sensation like rocks against mud. But the thing I hate most, perhaps even more than the job itself—the thing I hate above all things in this godforsaken hell-hole—is the sound, is that sound. The grating breathing noises coming from the beast on the other side of my partition. It infuriates me to a point where I do not know myself any longer. To me he sounds like a hippopotamus in the last throws of life, or perhaps an elephant in a deep roaring slumber. The main difference is simply that the man on the other side of my partition is neither dead nor asleep—at least I assume he isn’t. It is hard to tell as I can’t see him over the cubicle divide, nor have I ever seen him.

This was probably a blessing for both of us, as I worry that should I ever come to face to face with my eternal tormentor, I very well might have to remove his nose from his face. What I still don’t understand is that, unless the man is deaf, he lives with the sound of his own breathing twenty-four hours a day and has yet to go completely insane and top himself.

I imagine him at night in a dirty flat by himself, sittng in his “TV” chair for hours on end, not wanting or daring to move his huge putrid fat carcass to the bedroom for fear of not being able to move back to a vertical position come the morning. He sits there until the early hours, mouth open, watching nonsense quiz shows and the Open University in the hope of maybe somehow ‘bettering’ himself. He dreams that, on the off chance that if someone happened to speak to him at the water fountain the following day, he might actually have something interesting to talk about. Come daylight, his poor brain must be in early stages of meltdown, much like the handfuls of crisps he shovels endlessly into his mouth until he cannot stay awake any longer. Then he passes out in his chair, too tired to even hear the vacuum of his own nasals bellowing. I picture him waking to the stagnant flavour of his own mouth with a fright. His eyes withdrawn, dark and tired he brushes the remnants of lasts night’s crisps from around his mouth. Then he hauls his all-encompassing weight along the trip to work simply to spite me and make my small and miserable life that extra bit more painful.

The hoarse sound is still pounding into my brain, something like a drill working against a blackboard. Like dogs yelping in pain mixed with an obnoxious whistle, blowing, blowing and blowing again and again. I can feel my hands becoming fists, my face getting hot and turning red. I’m trying to block it out, concentrate on my work. Staring deeper into the computer screen, attempting to lose myself in numbers and equations. I type loudly, rustle paperwork, any noise I can make in retaliation—in defence. Every attempt I make to block out even some of the noise is in vain. He is an unstoppable army marching over peaceful and unprepared lands, burning and destroying any life that stood in its path without mercy, regret or thought. I can feel my sanity ebbing away with every heaving tone; I can feel the walls of my tiny cubicle closing in around me. I can almost smell the flavour of crisp he consumed hanging in the air. I can’t take any more.

I’m on the edge of my chair now, teeth gritted, fists clenched; waves of rage fuelled hatred crash over me time and time again. I slam my hands down hard on the desk as I stand to finally face my tormentor. Teeth bared, I ready myself to leap over the partition and let loose my fury.

“RIGHT” I scream. Hoping to gain the edge of surprise and shock in the ensuing fight, I push my monitor out of the way. It lands on the floor with a almighty crash that seems to make most of the office gasp in unison. From a hundred other cubicles, I start to see faces appear.

Too late to turn back now that everybody's watching—I feel a sense of giddy exhilaration with the knowledge that now, after so long, I will have my vengeance! The desk now clear I begin my ascent; one knee up almost gives me the height to see over the top. I imagine this must have been what the soldiers in the trenches felt like. The excitement mixed with lashings of fear, the freedom of mortal combat. Oh what monstrous face must you bear? Just a couple of more inches.
I’m fully up now, standing on my desk. I almost gag as the grisly horror unveils itself before me with such pride.

There is no one there, further to that there is nothing there. No computer, phone or even a chair. The cubicle lies empty; it looks as if it has always been so. I don’t understand. I begin to feel dizzy as I look around again. The hundred faces of a hundred cubicles keep looking, staring, some aghast others smirking whispering to each other.

‘Oi oi, look at fatty’
‘Oh that poor man’
‘Its amazing that desk can hold him’

The sound of a hundred whispers makes one sole voice of mockery; slowly I lower myself from the desk, tears beginning to well in eyes. I find myself back in my cubicle, no great victory won. As I return to my seat awaiting the manager, I hear something. Truly a most terrifying sound, the sound. I hear the breathing once again, but it is not alone anymore. Today the awful rasping sound is mixed with quiet sobbing.

[dearest]

Nice work here, Gareth. I really love the ending, and the emotion of anger definitely comes through loud and clear. ^_^ What I would advise you to do in future writings is simply watch your sentence length. Your content is great, so many thoughts in one sentence, even a correctly punctuated one, can get confusing. In the next thing you write, try to vary you sentence lengths; it might improve clarity and comprehension for the reader. Well, overall, great, great piece. Again, thanks for submitting and welcome to SM! ^_^

[RENA HANDS]

I’m going to be picky…

The synopsis should read…A tale of (an) angry office worker facing his demons. One of (a few) short (stories) I have or (I’ve) written(.) Each story illustrates a variety of emotion, this one in particular is about hate.

I think the first sentence could have been more dramatic with more words and punctuation. What’s so ‘inhumane’ about the cubicle? Why does the chair ‘flame?’ How does it injure your back? What does it look like? Possibly write the ticks/flips of the clock hands. Also show the ‘lack of human contact,’ walking by secretaries, rushing mail boys or face stuffing executives. What does the sun look like from your point of view or lack of? And what are you doing at work that even a ‘cave man could do it?’

Possibly: I regret being here before I even arrive…

Is ‘instil’ an English spelling or should it be ‘instills?’

…is the sound, is that sound.(This sentence is very awkward.)

What about…

the thing that I hate above all else is that sound! The grating! The grating breathing noises that comes from the beast of on the other side of my partition. It infuriates me to no end that I no longer know myself. ?

The last sentence of the first paragraph should say something about

never seeing him at all…nor have I ever seen him. ?

What about…

What I don’t understand is that unless he’s deaf…how can he live with that sound twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week…and not yet taken his own life?

(Or something similar.)

I don’t think you need the two ‘that,’ here…He dreams that on the chance of someone speaking to him at the waterfountain

(Or something similar.)

I think it would just be…

and tired he brushes the remnants of last night’s…

I wouldn’t add anything about ‘again and again.” Just let the blowing, blowing, blowing fade on its own.

What about…Every attempt to block even the faintest clamor/racket/clatter(try something other than noise).

I think the tenses are incorrect, but what do I know of such things…

Now I’m on the edge of my chair, teeth gritting, fists clenching waves upon waves of rage fuel…

(I could be completely off, but I wanted to mention it.)

A typo?...

It lands on the floor with a almighty crash...?

Or did you imply something like a heavenly crash of sorts?

What kind of faces do you see?

I would have like to seen more action about the clearing of the desk…
What about saying…

I’m gagging as the grisly horror unveils itself before me with such pride. ?

That sentence should be spaced down also unless it’s apart of the previous paragraph following it.

What about…

There is nothing! No computer screen beaming lights, telephone ringing, computer keys clanking, clicking…

Just give more imagery to the ‘intense’ situation.

Interesting story. I am not too keen on the ending, but I’ll come back to it, maybe my thoughts will be changed then.

[Gareth84]

Thanks for the input and taking the time to read my story
Sorry to anyone who doesnt get some of the terms i used i.e. 'Top himself' and 'flaming'. I forget sometimes that there is in fact a world outside of London lol

Also very sorry you didnt like the ending i was trying to get across his actual feelings of self hatred that he had projected on this 'other' person.

[Wesley]

I liked this. Makes me never want to work in an office though. I had reread the ending before it became clear to me. Well done.

[WorldWarCheese]

SWEET FUCKING STORY! I love it. I love the description. I love the hate. I love the irony. It reminded me a helluva lot like Edger Alan Poe. Bravo. Why isn't this in Advanced? Wtf?

[Nish]

Hi Gareth84,
I really enjoyed reading it. Very well written. My only problem was with the beginning. It could have been more visual and descriptive. I wanted to be in that cubicle. The opening didn’t particularly grab me. but from:
“I imagine him at night in a dirty flat by himself, sittng in his “TV” chair for hours on end…”
onwards, I was hooked. Nicely done.

[3lack3ox]

I really like this story...well done! I have to say that I was hooked from the beginning, I think everyone has felt this way at some point in their life to some extent.

It's amazing how hate can thrive with help of one's imagination. This is a great illustration of that. Excellent read!

[Goopy]

Wow, way to go mate. I really enjoyed your use of repeating key words and phrases, back to back, to highlight that feeling. I thought that it really captured the hate. Also, I know that one of the other users said that you tried put too much thought into each sentance, but I believe that is just a style preferance and that in your story it really helped out. Some times it didnt always make sense or it seemed a bit long, but that gives the reader a feeling of "fed upness." If you know what I mean. Sometimes you have to make the reader frustrated with long runon sentances because the overall theme of the essay is frustration. Overall, I really enjoyed the paper mate.

[WorldWarCheese]

All in favor of putting this in "Advanced Writing" say "eye": EYE!

[barefootkid]

Im new here but i decided to leave a comment. This story communicated well with me because i have worked in numerous offices. although my experiences have not been this bad i have collegues who feel like they are being consumed by the office. I liked how you called the cubicle 'inhumane'. being in a confined space like that IS inhumane, okay yea we have our comforts and we are able to decorate the area but it sometimes feels like thats it, it feels like the space you sit in is the world as you know it.

i for one loved the ending, it was one of those endings that makes you go 'oooo' and sit back and re-read the story. You can tell the person dislikes himself so much that he has become deluded, he has turned harmless things against him and that same sound that is driving him crazy happens to be coming from himself. It reminded me of a person who disliked anyone remotely flamboyant or 'fruity' because they were battling with their sexuality.

This character has spent way too much time alone typing away at his little desk meeting work targets. The walls may feel like they are closing in on him not only figuratively but literally as he is getting larger and larger every night when he binges and sits in front of the television probably wishing to be someone else.

I say Aye for putting this in advanced. it was quite awesome.

[Perscription]

I enjoyed this. Liked the ending, hadnt seen it coming. Made me reread the story. I didnt have any issues with the length of some of your sentences either. All in all a teriffic read. Thanks for sharing.

[Randomgold]

A great story that really made me think about the way people think about themselves. It also makes me want to get a job somewhere without cubicles. You say in your synopsis that there are other such stories, and I hope to see them here soon, and that they're all of the same quality.

[Gurdit]

destroying any life that stood in its path

Grammatically, it would be correct if you wrote "stands"

Ah, the ending is really good there, Gareth. It makes the "story" good. The writing leaves a little to be desired because there are just a couple of tiny grammatical glitches here and there which you can probably fix on reading a second time.

When I was reading it, I wondered why you got into such detail regarding the life of the fat man on the other side of the partition. I wanted you to focus on the rage of the protagonist. Later, however, when you finally let the cat out of the bag which mewed that the fat man IS the protagonist, it made sense why you'd go into such detail. Clever writing!

My impression was that there would be no one in the other cubicle. Instead, it probably contained a copier or a printer or some other office equipment that makes a constant buzzing or humming noise. But your twist was better.

[Brensew]

Bangarang Gareth! Good good good. I think the story is put together very well. Love the day-dream descriptions of the "beast." Of corse it could use some tweaking here and there, but not much. The only thing that bothered me was the line from the first paragraph.. "but I can’t quite put my finger on it." To me, he knows exactly what is bothering him. Perhaps if you listed all the discomforts of the office and then said something like "but none of these compare to..." or "but the worst, above all is..." Just a thought.

Also, Rena I think you picked this story apart a little too much. Good suggestions, but the story is all about the ending. I curious to know why your not keen on it.

Anyway Gareth, more more!